


All Night Long

by castiel_ambrose



Series: French Fryes 1980's Soundtrack 'Verse [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Some angst, it's the 80s yall, mentions of bowie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiel_ambrose/pseuds/castiel_ambrose
Summary: “I still think it’s gonna rain.” Jacob gave a thumb jerk to the window and the dark night sky beyond, and Arno gave a small snort of laughter.“I think it’s done for the night.”“Swore I could smell it.”“Don’t people normally say they can feel it?”“Don’t try and contradict me, Mister Dorian.” Jacob faux-scoffed, surprising himself for a second before receiving a huff of laughter and a smile from the other man.“Oui, oui. As you say, Mister Frye. I apologize.”---Jacob and Arno go to breakfast and an agreement is struck.
Relationships: Arno Dorian/Jacob Frye
Series: French Fryes 1980's Soundtrack 'Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937935
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	All Night Long

The diner was a little one, the out of the way kind that serviced the late-night workers on their way to the plants. It was a place for those driving the long commute to get a quick bite to eat and smoke without much trouble. Jacob was almost surprised at the general decor and feel of the place when compared to his companion’s. But his stomach gave the slightest growl at the smell of something greasy frying, and he was happy not to question further as he sat across from Arno in a worn leather booth. 

The man began peeling away his scarf and coat, and Jacob took in his appearance. He wore a sharp red tie and a crisp gray dress shirt as if he had just gotten back from the office. Jacob suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness at his own appearance as he shed his leather jacket, looking for all intents and purposes he had just gotten out of some neighborhood slum fest in comparison… Which, to be fair, that’s what the bar had sort of been, but that was beside the point. If Arno felt the same, he said nothing or gave any indication of anything aside from a small smile.

 _Why would he care?_ A small part of Jacob’s mind asked, and if it were a person, it likely would have rolled its eyes.

“I still think it’s gonna rain.” Jacob gave a thumb jerk to the window and the dark night sky beyond, and Arno gave a small snort of laughter.

“I think it’s done for the night.”

“Swore I could smell it.”

“Don’t people normally say they can feel it?”

“Don’t try and contradict me, Mister Dorian.” Jacob faux-scoffed, surprising himself for a second before receiving a huff of laughter and a smile from the other man.

“ _Oui, oui_. As you say, Mister Frye. I apologize.”

Jacob took another second of near shock to receive the “apology”; hesitation flickered across his face before he quickly snuffed it out. “You better. I accept it.”

“I thank you.” Arno smiled again and almost spoke before they were interrupted by the waitress, an older woman with a hairdo that would have put Bonnie Tyler to shame. She poured the coffee at no prompting and rattled off the typical specials of diner folds. Both men ended up going for pancakes and bacon.

“I suppose it _is_ breakfast time.” Jacob mused before taking a sip of his coffee. He had only put two packets of sugar in it but watched as Arno nearly drowned his in cream and sweet flavoring, nodding in agreement.

“Best breakfast you’ll get in this area.”

“So… you come here often, then?”

“When I work late, sometimes I’ll stop by here before I head home.”

“What do you do?”

“I work as a domestic attorney.” He seemed oblivious to the way Jacob’s eyebrows rose and continued on. “You?”

Jacob took a long gulp of scalding coffee to give himself time to answer. Not to tell the truth but phrase it in a way that wasn’t that Roth had always taken care of everything while Jacob puttered around London doing odd work for who needed it.

“I’m between jobs at the moment.” He somewhat mumbled in his cup as he set it down. Arno slowly nodded.

“Well, if Thatcher doesn’t fuck us over, you might be able to get something at the steel plants. They’re always hiring.”

“Perhaps.” Jacob gave a slight nod in consideration before attempting to switch the conversation around. “So… Lawyer? Explains your sharp mind and sparkling wit.”

“My wit has always sparkled, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sure.”

“Thought you have your own sharp tongue to go along with your… Everything.” Arno gestured vaguely, and Jacob felt his cheeks heat up just a bit. “You might make a good lawyer.”

“I just happened to have the luck to grow up with a twin sister.”

“Is she in London as well?”

“Ah, lives just a bit outside of it with her husband. They’re adorable, really.” Jacob tried to hide the slightest bit of unconscious bitterness at the mention of his sister, and Arno accepted it.

They made a bit more small talk, moving into the more boring aspects of what people could talk about until their food came. Jacob asked a bit more about Arno, and Arno seemed to have a somewhat normal life; when his father had died, he had been adopted by a friend of his father and had a sister that traveled around a lot for business. He had come to London to “strike out”, though he sheepishly admitted he was a trust fund baby. Jacob found he didn’t mind it all that much, surprisingly.

There was something… endearing about him, about the careful and measured way he spoke, as if he was afraid to mess up a word. How even while they ate, he fiddled with his fork to make little comments about the diner or asking Jacob for his opinions on different things. Jacob couldn’t help but try to continue to get small smiles, anything of amusement. But he was earnest, and listened, and… And Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this with someone, just at peace without anything demanded of him.

If there was one problem he had, though, it was the lawyer’s taste of music.

“Okay, I could forgive not liking Crüe. But _Bowie_ ? You don’t like _Bowie_?”

“I like Bowie! ‘Young Americans’ is a fantastic album, and so is ‘Station to Station’. It’s just his recent work that I’m not a fan of. He was better in the 70s.”

“So you don’t like _Labyrinth_.”

“Haven’t seen it. What’s that look for?”

“If there was a theater still open I’d be dragging you to it right now so we can change that.” Jacob warned, and Arno quirked an eyebrow up as he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed but tone playful.

“Is that a threat, _Monsieur_ Frye?”

“Could be.” Jacob grinned, leaning forward. The food was long gone, plates sticky with syrup in front of them and the bill on its way. The only reason Jacob could be arsed to care was because this could very well be it. It could very well be the last time he was going to feel this way. Maybe he was vulnerable, but there was a soft part of him that wanted to keep feeling this way as long as he could. Roth would try and fight his way back, even if Jacob kept his distance; he knew his apartment, after all. He paid for it. But… That wasn’t what he wanted right now.

He wanted to be safe, wanted to be _wanted_. 

“Jacob? Jacob, are you okay?” He came back to himself and realized Arno was leaning on the table, mindful of the plates but looking at him with concern; he realized as well that he had slumped back against the booth, arm crossed a bit defensively. Quickly he cleared his throat.

“I’m fine, really. Just…” He hesitated before spilling the truth, “I don’t want to go home just yet. This is probably the best night I’ve had in a bloody long time, you know? But you’re… I can’t even offer you anything other than half the check.”

“Jacob, hey. Don’t look away.” He tacked on as the man’s eyes drifted down, and spoke again when Jacob was looking at him. “You’re wonderful- Wonderful company. I just don’t want- It’s-” Arno sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed flush overtaking his cheeks; Jacob felt the same. “If it isn’t too much to say… I want to continue. I do. But… I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Take advantage?” Jacob said a little too loud for comfort, and both of them quickly looked around the diner for anyone that heard.

“This ex of yours… He left you in a bad state. I don’t want you to make some sort of decision you’ll regret because of your emotions.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Shit, Jacob, fine, I do.” 

“And I want you, Arno.” They were hushed at this point, and Jacob could see a conflict clear in the other’s hazel eyes. “Even if it’s just for the night. Frankly, I didn’t think you were… You know.”

“Not as though you’re the picture of a gay man.”

“Fine. Fair enough. But I mean it.” If Jacob could have taken his hand, could have given any other reassurance than his words… He would’ve. “You want me, I want you. S’all that matters at this point.” Finally, a bit of pleading overtook his words. “And I don’t want to go home yet.”

Thinks were quiet as Arno worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Jacob half-held his breath, and let it out in semi-disappointment once Arno signaled for the bill without so much as an answer.

Then, once the server had hobbled away with everything, the Frenchman spoke quietly.

“We’ll have to find a taxi. Can’t walk to my place from here quick enough.”

“Deal.” Jacob smiled in relief and excitement. And he could’ve sworn Arno had his own, small secretive look of relief as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Lionel Richie's song of the same name
> 
> Next entry is gonna have smut, so be warned!
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Get added on a taglist or check out my other fics/follow me on my [tumblr](https://straight-into-the-animus.tumblr.com/), and let me know what you think! I'm always accepting requests! Safety and peace!


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